The Dreaming
by mistAndStarlight
Summary: Finrod Felagund defeats Sauron at Tol Sirion. Someone from outside bumps into Middle Earth and leaves a mark, seeking out Eärendil. "I can feel it in the water. I can smell it in the air. The world... just changed", concludes Galadriel soon and sets out to discover what awaits... (scifi / horror / dystopia / utopia / suspense / maybe romance) (difficult to rate, T or M)
1. Disputed Isle

Orcs that didn't pillage? He had them brought in. A spell to see into them provoked what could only be a counter-spell.

Their camouflage dropped easy. The man's mind was like an open book. Beren, on a mission to steal Melkor's jewels, at king Thingol's bidding, as a bride price for wedding with Luthien.

Elves... were always more difficult. He succeeded with most of them. Those who resisted, did so at great cost to their functioning. While shielding themselves from Mairon's words, they couldn't physically block a pillow tossed at them.

Except that one.  
He was calmly singing.  
He didn't lose balance, didn't seize his head...  
...slowly walked forward, sword in left hand, dagger in right.

/ How many left-handed elves do I know? /

Mairon focused on him, relaxing hold of others, and for good measure, picked up mace. This elf had cast the spell of concealment, and could do more.

"You weren't very good at acting orcish. Slashing and burning is a fond cultural tradition, you know. Mushrooms and berries they consume in deadly peril. Rodent, bird and snake would be considered appropriate healthy snacks."

"True enough. Then again, maybe our camouflage wasn't meant to endure. No walls did we climb, no battles we fought, yet here we are."

"Do you imagine that an advantage?"

"Currently I do, for this is Tol Sirion... how come you haven't built your own fastness? You can build - I know you of old times. Without asking have you settled here. This is not your island, not your river, not your place."

"I have made it mine. Unless you name yourself and claim it from me."

"Findaráto Ingoldo, you would know me as, but recently they call me Finrod Felagund. I helped create this island, designed this fort and both bridges. This place trusted my judgement for a long while. Listen to advise, withdraw. Let us pass."

"To the halls of Mandos you may pass unhindered. Elsewhere do not hurry."

"To pass elsewhere I intend however. The act of taking didn't make this yours."

A tremor ran through ground. Felagund sang on, reaching out to the island and the river around it. He reminded them of their beginning, of Aulë and Ulmo, of elves who had asked for aid, of their careful shaping, of words said to make them endure, promises given, good times seen. He reminded of their original purpose.

Mirroring a battle of more ancient music, Mairon tried to intervene in the spells, alter their meaning, find moments of ambiguity and usurp the elf's bond with the place.

Felagund however made no mistake. He seemed to know exactly what he must and may not. Against an opponent of greater stature and skill, adventurous moves would bring him down. He did not make any. He sang of things he knew, appealed for aid of forces that were loyal. He sang of holding course in darkness, building trust, overcoming hardship, growing slowly.

Mairon tried contending with the song, but truth be told... he was not good at music. For one whose spirit also sang in the creation, that was somewhat embarrassing. Mairon worked in more reliable, repeatable arts. The fact that Felagund's spells were song, was an impediment for him. Creation itself had been done the wrong way, it had left him confused and dissatisfied.

But here, time was running short. He swung the mace and multiplied the weapon's power with words. Felagund jumped directly at him, but didn't attempt to land a strike. Instead the elf dove past him. Mace missed their mark and hit the wall of the tower, causing it to explode outward while floor collapsed underneath.

/ Oh well, a few bumps and scratches. /

Shaking off stones, Mairon saw that the elf-king had landed on feet.

/ Bloody sprites, jumping onto a flying rock. /

Some of his companions were knocked out though, others bruised. Felagund stood facing outward towards the broken tower, in the middle of the courtyard. Who remained standing of his company, had armed themselves around him.

"I'm failing you, comrades.  
I cannot protect you for more than a few minutes.  
Forgive me, this is going like I hoped it would not go."

None of them wavered, though some despaired. Wolves and orcs were hesitant - the first to move would meet certain death. Earth was shaking and water had become incredibly violent. Wind and waves flung intense gusts of spray over the outer walls. The bridge was hardly visible among their rising crests. Also, there was a pattern in the water which Mairon clearly saw now.

"I notice you intend to flush yourself halfway to Valinor."

"All of us, all the way... unless you make a reasonable choice and back down.  
I cannot defeat you in combat, but I am asking the island to undo itself.  
If I ask once more, I think it will oblige. Collect your servants, go and build your own place."

"Oh, I could... but why let someone burglarize my master? Why not embrance our mutual destruction, and escape as a spirit, as you know I can."

The elf might bring down everything, but not escape.

"You note correctly, one whom I guide has sworn to take a Silmaril from Morgoth. If you asked me, I would note that Morgoth didn't make the Silmarils. Robbery begets burglary, violence begets war... I didn't start it, you didn't either. Morgoth did. Rain can't complain about wet.

I don't know what he promised you, but take note of what you have received. As for escaping, scornfully would he mock thy naked spirit if you returned to him. Myself would Mandos accept with compassion and respect. If I went there, I might even meet whom I love."

Mairon knew... Felagund was not bothering with deceit. His words were true and precise, and that left more than a scratch. Mairon had grown used to constant manipulation and having to wring out truth.

"Apparently you have convinced me, cave-maker. I need to compromise.

I will heed your advise and build my fort on the other shore.

Do not think however that you are free to pass my gates there."

"I don't expect to be trying that... oh, and thank you for your sensible choice. I miss the one who was called Mairon, when times were different."

That was something he didn't expect. Losing a turf to its maker was foreseeable. Being thanked was not.

He waved a command. Wolves ran and orcs marched quick. He walked last and made it sure that in his footsteps, the bridge cracked and crumbled into the river. The distant song of Finrod Felagund faded and the river calmed.

He sent a vampire to deliver word to Melkor, and immediately started work.

The new fort would be his own.


	2. Angband Asleep

Many things came to pass.

Thuringwethil decided to have dinner halfway to Angband. Dinner had seen the light of previous times and wielded a sword faster than wind. Dinner was named Glorfindel and no word arrived to Angband.

What arrived was a pair of travelers in yet another disguise. No chance should ordinary creatures have received there...

...yet Luthien had not spent her time idle. Beren alone would have been slain at gates, but Luthien could clear their way both in and out. Orcs would, to this day, secretly joke about it. Sometimes he wanted to fling them in a fireball above clouds... sometimes he wanted to join their laughter.

"The one who arises in might"...

...drooling on the floor like a drunken goat, no, drooling with his balrog guards like a herd of drunken goats farting dull fire, while his loot is stolen by mortals and wannabes... that was totally a thing to contemplate, when one had the mood.

Mairon knew that unlike his former master, he would have withstood Luthien's song. To him, it would have been just a song, one he'd struggle to follow, just like he struggled to intervene in the song of Felagund.

That left the question of what he would have done.

Mairon had sworn fealty to Melkor, but the oath was not sincere. By the time he swore, he already smelled deceit. No big issue, he decided to proceed anyway - he would learn of the old devil what there was to learn. So boring had it grown in Valinor that even Melkor was a welcome change.

Soon it was boring again. Blind like the Valar in their unwavering respect of Eru, barring him from more accomplishment and quite interesting craft, was Melkor blind in pointless rebellion.

/ If the Valar decide to catch fire, he will give Balrogs webbed feet, to swim in the spectacular fountains of Thangorodrim. /

Thingol had payed dearly for sending such entertainment to Angband. Luthien had payed... more dearly still. And Beren... just as much as he was due anyway. He never had a chance, but made the most of trying.

Mairon didn't know what to think about it. About any who chose death to accompany her love, or those who only arose to live for moments.

He had seen Luthien in Beren's mind and felt his thoughts for her. The story of his enemies did not leave him unmoved. Mairon knew that love existed. He had never felt it... to read one person's love for another from their mind was very odd... no written word described it adequately...

He had previously not bothered, but there was something about Luthien that was difficult to ignore...

...okay. So this was the feeling that made people do irrational things.

It made them so vulnerable, possible to manipulate.

It could also however, give great persistence, strength and cunning.

He reserved judgement on love, but choosing death was nonsense of the highest magnitude.

Such talent wasted forever.

Was this reward truly worth such waste?

/ Daughter of Melian, could you not save yourself and your chosen ally? /

Had Luthien truly not possessed a bit of extra capability to cheat her fate? In some idle thoughts, Mairon thought... that he had missed a unique chance... he should have been quicker of wit, and offered his enemies a present. For embarrassing his boss, a real present, free of strings attached.

It could be done, he knew.

He could have offered them life. Real life... life now and forever unless harmed... as opposed to Eru's metaphysical joke. Would have been a nice prank to upset established order.

Would their love have permitted them to accept such a present? He regretted missing the opportunity to find out. They had lived their brief lives and faded, ever his productive opponents, ever each other's allies, and Luthien had ended like a star reduced to a spark.


	3. Little Vermin

Others had later pulled the same prank he imagined.

Some of the Valar had pulled the prank on his former master, and the prank had wiped the floor with Melkor's doomsday weapon.

Once again, Mairon's advise went unheeded. Melkor, when he was inspired, was impossible to reason with. He'd been to battle underneath that... Ancalagon thing. As soon has he saw the first crater and the second trail of incoming fire, he knew the result, and threw his mace down.

"I drop my weapons, elflings! Heed my example, value your lives and flee!"

Saying that, Mairon turned into a ball lightning and flung himself towards the nearest mountain pass. The elves he was holding back stopped in puzzlement, considered a moment, discarded heavier wares and ran downhill like dust driven by wind.

What he saw were Eärendil's first projectiles missing their mark. No archer had practised shooting from a distance so vast, with arrows so strange. But the sailor was no fool, knew the laws of motion and corrected aim.

Mairon reached the mountains and looked back.

Flash followed by shockwave followed by flash, the line of incoming darts steered towards Ancalagon's head. He saw the colors of glowing tungsten in the trail of Eärendil's arrows. Hard, heavy, resistant to heat.

These arrows weighed like a spear, and the entire weight of Arda accelerated them for minutes. Armor was going to be meaningless.

Hit. It went through the dragon's head, still exploding to make a crater beneath.

Two. Hit.

Three. Hit.

Four. Hit.

...it stopped in air, mindless, starting to fall. The pointless waste of matter didn't even bother to explode.

This was the prank they had pulled. Human turned into elf of the void. Ship carried by light of the sun. He looked through clouds and saw the faint glimmer of Luthien's loot, Feänor's craft...and the shape of reflective sails.

/ Truly well met, little vermin. /

The smoke screen obviously needed improvement.


	4. Worldbreak

They were walking up the riverside when she faltered and stopped.

"I can feel it in the water. I can smell it in the air. The world... just changed."

For good or ill, Celeborn did not have this gift. His beloved, Galadriel, could sense and interepret distant events in an outright spooky manner. As if part of her mind was elsewhere... everywhere.

She was thrice as much queen for Lothlorien than Celeborn its king... but he envied not. A high price came with Galadriel's gift of feeling the world around, seeing into minds. She was powerful, but easily distracted and lost focus often. Keeping things running then was his job. He could juggle a hundred tasks and few things distracted him.

But now, Galadriel was really shaken. She was leaning on him to stay upright. He lent her more support and hugged her.

"This was something beyond the usual. Can I help you somehow?"  
"I just saw him... and then he died."

"Who?"  
"No, not him, not him either... I saw Morgoth."

Now it was his time to be shaken.

"Are you totally certain? How? I thought the Valar are eternal, even fallen ones?"  
"I have no doubt in what passed. To be honest, the clarity of the vision was disturbing."

"But who?"

"I heard someone offer him help. He tried to overpower that person. Response came fast as lighting."

Celeborn suspected the lesser dark lord had assassinated the dark king. Galadriel didn't need him to speak. "No. It was out there, in the void. This was someone... wanting to help for the right reasons. Not knowing that he can't be cured."

"But how?"

"I wish I could explain... I saw an object I would not imagine to exist, turning fast into a great amount of light. Not the gentle light that living creatures bask in, but violent light that kills, tearing all things into vapour. I saw it consume the dark lord, consume his spirit and every shadow of every escaping thought. But the person who wielded this weapon stayed unharmed."

"Do we have anyone... to ask for advise?"

"I think I am the last one in Arda with this gift... oh..."

"You saw someone."

"The one who hides among ashes. He currently doesn't know.

He has deafened his senses and trained in other crafts.

He will know, though..."


	5. Dreaming

That night, Galadriel couldn't sleep properly. She moved away from Celeborn's embrance, for her dreams were odd, inviting her to explore very far.

"I really wish I could snuggle. I like your touch, warm and soft. But I am going on a long journey... I may awaken startled or fearful... if you see that, you will know. If I awaken confused or distressed, let me apologize in advance. Also, this journey might be dangerous even for me. If I don't awaken, you cannot call me back, you can only wait. I must return on my own strength, and you cannot help me."

"Don't worry, I think I know what you mean... that your dreams are not your own sometimes."

He had been to war against Morgoth, not the worst of those wars but... / his dreams were his own / ...but not the best dreams sometimes.

Galadriel dreamt of rising from bed, walking out of the forest into an opening...  
...of watching stars pass by, hours compressed into minutes...  
...until she noticed Gil-Estel float by and made a wish...  
...and suddenly was falling upward, away from Arda.

"Hello, old friend. I thought I wouldn't meet you for ages."  
"Hello, Galadriel... what a strange visit. How did you get here?"

"I am dreaming. I am not really here. Just a trick of my mind."  
"Quite an impressive trick, then. I would mistake you for real."

"There is something that troubles me greatly, something I wanted to ask."  
"Let me guess. Half a day ago, you also looked at the sky?"

"No, but my mind felt it anyway. I am convinced that I saw true events, but it runs counter to my expectations."

"Whatever you saw in your mind, surely was more than my eyes caught. I was only setting out from Valinor and had barely reached my ordinary path, when I observed a blinding flash, deeming it very close... and then a puff, a ring expanding outrageously far instead. I couldn't investigate as I have sworn to do a job, but I definitely planned to ask from the people of Aman."

"I was right to think that if someone saw this, that would be you. Thank you, Eärendil."

"No problem. I saw more, however. You see, I planned to ask from the people of Aman. Now I have been asked... to prolong my trip and delay my return."

She was puzzled.

"You see, I received a different visitor before you."

"Eärendil!?"

She awoke again in her bed, covered with cold sweat. Celeborn was calmly sleeping beside her.


	6. Queen of the Earth

Her first attempt to continue her dream went entirely out of control.

It started with her marveling at a mithril ring. Celebrimbor had made it and given it to her. More than decorative, this ring was bestowed with certain powers, allowing it to bend time a little, just as it bent light. It could even collect what it diverted and release what was collected.

While she looked into it, she saw it contained an inner light. Looking closer and closer, drifting towards the light with all her senses, she could finally feel... the light of fire from a forge, and hear words in an artificial language.

The dream split, and in one future, one Galadriel dropped the ring in shock, recoiling as if a snake had tried to strike her. The other Galadriel...

...looked further and saw herself in yet another world. A hobbit was presenting her a golden ring. She knew it held immense power compared to the mithril one, power of ordering matter and energy on great scales, and bending will.

This ring was not a gift given freely. It was loot of war. The halfling was offering it out of fear. He could bear it thus far, but it was trying hard to change him. It would burden and torture all who carried it according to their measure, all save one whose power was greater and will very strong.

/ How long will a hobbit last with this burden? /

As she held it up, it declared to her its capabilities and loyalties. It refused her control. It defied her squarely. It chose its words well. Unbeknownst to her, it also spoke to Celebrimbor's ring and all others of its kind. She doubted... considered... she would make it her own.

She was wearing it now. Or more precisely, it was wearing her, and she only occasionally realized that, shaken but unable to change course.

There was no power over matter or energy in it - the one ring was about dominating living creatures. When she had taken it, it had taken her. She was too strong to be subdued, however, instead it had made her Queen of the Earth.

Celeborn had left her forever, returning to Valinor.

The golden forest still existed, for she destroyed not who obeyed her command. Still, she now ruled from Dol Guldur. Bitter war had ravaged all of Middle Earth, but she was winning. All states of men had bowed to her or met their end. Wizards had conspired to defeat her and lost their powers. Cirdan and Elrond had opposed her and been driven to sea. Glorfindel had tried to assassinate her, and died trying.

Erebor still held and supported Thranduil's mad resistance.

And Mordor remained. That she worried about, under a facade of perfect strength and defeating beauty. Every time she made a decisive move to remove the threat of Mordor, something went astray. Either she overreached and struck emptiness, or Sauron parried fast. Obviously, the creator of the ring knew the mind of his creation and the limits of its power.

Worse still, it was becoming apparent that Sauron was becoming something of a... beacon of hope. You didn't walk into Mordor and ask for refuge in old times. You escaped from Mordor at best.

Spies told of people describing him as reasonable, almost benevolent, yet still impossibly efficient at getting things done. Dwarves had cursed more than even Mahal would permit, and sent envoys to Mordor. Those returned with keys to Moria and crafts to build weapons. Perhaps encouraged, the king of Mirkwood had sent his son. His track had disappeared cold, but Mirkwood remained untaken.

She was now entirely unmatched in magic and could have dueled with the Valar, but dwarves didn't use magic, and Sauron rarely used magic these days. Speaking of which...

...she accepted the invitation to talk.

/ Lady Galadriel, Queen of the Earth, greetings and news I bring - no fight do I want, please hear my case. /

/ Drop the titles, quit the flattery, make it short and get to the point. /

/ I urge you destroy it - it was my mistake, I regret causing it to exist. Please forgive me, and more importantly, fully forgive yourself. I have done worse than you - but if you continue, you will soon exceed me.

Yet none who's immortal is irredeemable, even if some may seem. Time will heal you - surely you must know that you're not fully yourself. My old mind exists in the ring. You are strong and independent of will, however - it has not enslaved you. You have kept doubt and critical thought, you often deny it what it wants.

At great cost you have bought me time to figure it out. I can tell you how to destroy it. I can survive its destruction, weakened only somewhat. I also offer my assistance - I think I can help you heal. If you heal, you can make a big difference for any cause. Remove the ring, say this to it, and take an hour's walk to safe distance, for it contains a large fraction of the energy of the mountain. /

/ No. And your skills of deception have dwindled. /

/ I am trying persuasion, not deception, and I never was good at that, Galadriel. I have received news from people whom I was not on talking terms with. They overcame their pride and I overcame mine. If you do not stop yourself, Eärendil will take action against you. They gave three days to find a solution. My solution is that you destroy my ring, and I will help you recover. I have worn it, it has been cut from my hand, if anyone can heal what it does, I can. /

/ Do you have anything to back your words? /

/ It is almost midnight there. Look to the skies. Three warning shots will be fired. /

A trail of fire curved towards them. The shockwave came, bringing steam like a storm gust. Then another, but no more steam, instead pebbles and branches. And a final third, this time mostly smoke. Surveying damage, they found a small lake filling up, hissing with heat. Three meteorites had fallen in the same place.

/ I have seen what happened. I have also seen dwarves brandish your new weapons. They are possible to copy, but I understood how this has gone beyond sense or sanity. I struggled long to accept your offer. But now I need your advise and I need it urgently. /

/ I listen. /

/ I tried to remove the ring. It quite simply refuses to come off. Neither of them. They are stuck on my fingers, one on my left and the other on my right hand. /

The curse in Sauron's language caused her to shiver, but went past understanding.

/ Sorry for explicit words. I feared something like this. Please give me a moment to think. /

/ You aren't the only one cursing. I would greatly appreciate if you thought fast. The deadline is within half an hour. /

/ Whatever the case is, don't say the words. Explain to Eärendil... /

/ I already said the words. /

/ How long ago? /

/ A moment before I tried to remove it. /

/ I'm afraid you must injure yourself. These words can't be reversed. To avoid losing your life, you must not delay by the slightest bit. The ring cannot be reasoned with. It senses approaching destruction and won't release you. I can't command it, I just tried with all the force I have left. Ignore the lesser ring, it is powerless without the one. The one ring... you must cut it off. Do what Isildur did to me. Tell everyone to make haste and evacuate the place where it drops. Isildur merely hurt me. This time, more will happen. /

Galadriel suddenly worried quite a bit. She remembered Elrond... the same Elrond who fought her warriors to the last arrow... telling of what happened when Isildur cut the ring from Sauron's hand.

/ You think so loudly that even I can see my past. No, it won't be like that. You're a material creature, you won't disappear. Just focus on staying conscious and ignoring pain. /

The Galadriel of the dream was a cold-blooded warrior. She pressed her hand against an armor plate of her dress, seized a dagger, uttered a curse and a spell to shield her from pain, and with all her strength cut into her hand. Bones crunched, ligaments gave way, her fingers holding the dagger hurt unimaginably, and the hand she cut even more. The dagger turned hot and burned her, but her will and body were strong enough for the task.

Seeing her finger drop to the ground actually lessened pain. Shock of injury was releasing substances that protected. Then came shock of the mind. She was Galadriel again, she was free. Then came the memories of who she had been. Then came immense shame... the shame of having deceived, killed and started war. Shame of having been deceived and used against her will.

For a moment, she considered if the dagger wanted to drink more blood.

No! I am not Turin. I will fight. I will heal.

She sucked the wound clean thrice, wrapped it into a piece of fabric, threw the knife into earth and staggered away.

Others had made haste and she was alone. Galadriel tried to keep a straight line through the forest, but it was not her forest any more, and pain started blinding her again. She was losing precious time stumbling around.

/ Help me. I need a direction, fast! /

/ I barely hear you. I will try. /

Yes, she could see the direction. Glowing now like a setting sun, Orodruin was visible through the night and the forest. Apparently, Sauron was still on amicable terms with the mountain. She headed in that direction, trying to quicken pace.

/ It happens now, you are not safe! I am losing contact... /

She saw a rock and took shelter behind it. Fire like a hundred lightnings flashed through the forest. Out of curiosity, she started counting. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Perhaps I live. The shockwave hit like a sack of grain dropping on her from height. It sent mallorn and fir straight to the ground, but the rock didn't waver.

Minutes passed before Galadriel could see or hear again. Smoke swirled around in dim moonlight. Orodruin had either stopped erupting, or her senses were too hurt.

Sideways was an impossible barricade of fallen trees. She could head either back, towards a blast crater behind a forest fire where wind was being drawn...

...or towards the river and Mordor. She walked outward along the fallen trees for half a day perhaps, sleeping occasionally. The wound stopped bleeding, but ached. Mind also ached. The other ring was still stuck to her finger, but its abilities had left it.

Eventually she reached the river. Its stream was polluted with ash and leaves, branches and mud. It should have been impossible to cross here, but Eärendil's warning shot and the ring's destruction had altered the river. She estimated depth, discarded her helmet, kept armor and waded through.

On the other bank stood an elf... of Noldorin-like appearance. Short hair and total disrespect of elvish style gave a clue. In his hand glowed lamp radiating precisely directed light skyward. Galadriel wondered how she hadn't seen it sooner. Red light of a single color. Ordered light. If she stalled against time for a moment, she could count packets of light leaving the lamp together in groups.

/ It is you. /

He nodded. He wore no armor. His clothes were odd. A backpack of supplies, a crossbow made of material she didn't recognize. Its bowstring was metal. Arrows of... she didn't know what exactly, but they looked like they might want to steer themselves in flight. He didn't have any fingers missing, though.

/ Hello and welcome. I apologize once more, for using false appearence. I wanted to make sure you made it out safely. You became impossible to contact. My powers diminished more than I expected. I admire your strength. Myself, I would have crumbled and been consumed. I brought some healing supplies. /

/ Why bother? I was your enemy, I was your hostage, I never helped you. /

/ Because I started it. And you helped me more than I can begin to describe. When you fell under its influence, I was not what I am. The evil intent that I cast into the ring... you stole it away from me. Bearing it yourself, fighting with it and succumbing, you lifted my burden. You permitted me to heal, thus I am in debt. And you remained my enemy despite being overtaken, and fought me efficiently. You didn't let me reclaim it, until the right thing could be done. I could not have done this alone. Only you could have helped me. /

/ Tell me, what name do you use these days? /

/ Names have power. I apologize for being cowardly, but I'm not yet certain if I can tell you. /

/ Then I shall call you Mairon. Your recovery was quick and your opposition to my attacks was smart. And I accept your help, for having literally lived in your skin, as a willing prisoner of your ring, I now know you more than you might like. Your old self would not be doing this. /

/ Thank you. And I wish I had words. I'm sorry. /

/ Do not apologize. At least not for a while. I knew it was no trinket I was playing with. I had desired it greatly. I lusted for power and to re-arrange the world. I knowingly put on something that I knew might not empower but overpower me. At least it didn't torment me like it did to others who bore it. It accepted me with surprising eagerness. I guess I was suitable material for its wishes. I am ashamed. /

/ You were always ambitious, we have that in common. And there is nothing bad in ambition applied more considerately. But now, please let me deal with your hand. /

She was tired anyway and let him work, drifting away into a dream.

/ I am dreaming within a dream? This has to stop. There might be no way back. /

The dream wouldn't stop. Her body in the other world was too tired. She dreamt of walking by the river, clad for war. The color of her armor was a perfect match for her ring, a mix of gold and orange adorned with artwork black.

She decided to cross the river and waded in. The river was sandy and shallow, but she slipped on a rock, fell, got up again, and crossed to the other bank. Her armor now pressed cold against her body, wet clothes underneath it. Or maybe... strange. In this dream, she felt no clothes underneath it. Colder and colder it grew, and she wanted to remove it, but shame of being seen dissuaded her.

Shivering turned to shaking and she finally decided to proceed anyway, but realized that her hands had turned numb and useless, one wounded, the other burnt, both frozen. She could not undo the catches and belts to remove her armor.

Cursing and struggling, she felt warmth return, but armor stiffened against her, holding her in place. Looking down, she understood that the dream had again changed. Her armor had disappeared, but her golden ring had slid over all of her body, leaving her trapped up to her neck in a thin shell of gold. It was warm, but left her no freedom. No amount of effort would make it even flex. She tried anyway.

/ No! Set me free! How am I even standing? This is unreal! Be gone, nightmare! Help! /

/ Calm! Please calm, please awaken, what is wrong? /

Whew. Out of this dream and back into the previous one. Mairon was holding her injured palm with two hands, while she was trying to hit him with her other hand. Fortunately Galadriel was disoriented and he was evading fast, as a result of which no punch had landed, despite trying several times.

/ Oh, damn. Sorry, I saw a nightmare! /

/ Don't worry, I understood that much. What worried me was that you would not awaken, and did your best to damage your hand which I had quite hard worked to fix. Unfortunately when I tried holding you back, you tried to kick and punch me. /

/ Wow, what is that... I feel my finger again. How long did I sleep? /

/ A whole day has passed - you slept properly and long. I wondered many times if I should awaken and inform you, but you were so calm at first. I only became concerned when you started thrashing. Careful with that. /

She was careful and didn't even fully unwrap the layers of bandages.

/ Just tell me how. /

/ I have learnt some things while opposing your wrath. Mirkwood elves taught me how to regrow damaged plants and heal wounded animals. I took the principle and made industry out of it. Nothing special, though. Some frogs and lizards do it without help. /

/ Wow. Thank you. Also, thanks for the warmth. I know I should be cold, having waded and then fallen asleep. In fact, my nightmare involved me almost freezing. /

/ No big deal. Playing with all forms of fire is habitual for me. Compared to playing with other forces or fate, it seemed the safest idea. /

/ You considered playing with what? /

/ I considered options, since you were wet, cold, muddy and obviously needed to be dry. Finding no particularly easy way to just persuade water or mud to disappear, I considered removing your armor and putting a blanket around you, but understood that would be complicated and disrespectful. So I settled for changing local climate and making it warm. /

Galadriel laughed loud and switched over to speaking with her voice.

"Well, apparently, I'll now have to ask for help. I need to get my armor off me."

Mairon only looked puzzled.

"Not being of the immaterial sort, and having a finger crafted with flimsy magic from frogs somehow glued onto my hand, while my other hand is somewhat burnt, I feel I could use assistance with throwing away my armor, don't you think so? Also, do you have dry clothes?"

"I have spare clothes for myself. You can take them and they might fit you, we are of the same height. They are not beautiful, though, only practical. Alternatively, I can create some quickly. But why discard your armor? It is skillfully made, beautiful and fits you well. Are you sure you won't miss it some day?"

Now it was Galadriel's turn to pause for thought.

"Promise me that you don't apologize any more."  
"I promise."

"I have a grudge against my armor. In my dream, it was trying to freeze me, and I couldn't get it off. And, oh the irony, it actually turned warm in my dream, but I could not appreciate warmth. You see, my damn armor replaced itself with sheet metal and I realized it was my ring, and had me trapped like a motionless gold statue. In the dream, it was my own ring, not yours, I emphasize - you had no part in the mess, though it was probably your attempt to protect my hand that triggered feeling stuck. Don't worry, I don't normally have this kind of dreams."

For a moment, Mairon held his palm over his eyes, suppressing laughter.

"You aren't doing your armor any justice. As far as my observations go, it served you reliably in the real world. Whether this world is fully real, is another matter, though. Considering a bit, all of this does seem unlikely."

"Well, not being a queen anymore, I don't need it. Secondly, I have found that it fits me too well. Part of the intent in having it crafted like that, was to intimidate in more than one way."

"To intimidate with beauty?"

He found her smiling and wondered if it was a test. She didn't tell.  
He wondered it anew in thoughts that she could read.  
Next he wondered if this world was a dream.

"Damn, you are breaking the dream, please stop doing that! Yes, it's a dream, and I don't know if this will ever be. It is just as unexpected to me."

"Thanks. I will refrain from breaking it. You have invited too much of me here, I cannot help doing that anywhere I go, real or not."

Galadriel knew the problems of dreaming about such creatures. Dreaming about them didn't work cleanly in one direction. They were so well connected with the fabric of the world that thinking about them, talking about them, you could reveal your interest and draw their attention. There was a bit of the real Sauron, who preferred to be Mairon, in her dream, in the unlikely world.

"In honesty, it does fit you really, really well. Don't be ashamed of your beauty, be proud of it. Also, don't be afraid of your armor, please don't throw it away. It has no ill intent, I have now checked it twice. If you're tired, I can easily pack it along."

"Well, you persuaded me."

She sighed of relief and later awakened from the crazy dream by falling asleep there, after he cooked her dinner, and not badly either.

Elsewhere, at another time, Mairon awakened from a strange daydream which had seemed almost too realistic to be ignored. Events had pivoted around a golden ring he'd forged, and he well understood what part of his mind had gone into it. While dreaming, he had noted the positions of the stars. Stars would take that position soon. Less than a thousand years.

He was almost certain that the real Galadriel had tried to discern future, and traveling by one path, bumped into a future that joined their fates, causing him to notice.

He also wondered again how people could start appreciating each other's company. For in that dream, he had appreciated her company, and not for anything he would gain.

Yes, in that world, he owed her assistance and hospitality, but knowing someone who understood you was strangely calming.


	7. Bridge

Finally she reached the path she sought. If you lost a path while dreaming, finding it again was slow. But she was now retracing the steps of Eärendil.

Glowing in the void before her, was a set of eyes. She instinctively knew they were eyes, though nothing advised of that. Neither was there two of them. By the bridge of the ship, fourteen tiny dots of light glowed in the void, orange with an inner fire. Their host was entirely unseen.

"Can you understand my speech? Can we talk?", they asked.

"Of course I do. You speak Quenya, though its flavour is strange. How did you learn it?"

"I learnt by listening from far away. I have only spoken it once before with great difficulty. I was worried that maybe I had learned it wrong. My last and only meeting with anyone from here... I found a person who was wounded... a great god of old... and a wrathful one, I think."

"It went badly."

"Not knowing who I was dealing with, I offered assistance. I think he thought I was a weapon to be seized. And I am a weapon, though only for myself. No gods or masters do I recognize. I reacted before he could harm me, and he perished, for he was already spent. I regret and apologize."

Eärendil/Galadriel stayed silent, piecing together the meaning. The visitor continued.

"Among my kind, it is customary that if a terrible accident occurs, bringing death, even if blame cannot be taken, responsibility should be claimed. Full explanations should be given, questions answered and compensation offered. I wish I could treat with the kin of the deceased, but I am at loss. Among his kin apparently, he was exiled."

"Yes, that is true."

"I saw the harbour where you return to, and considered going there... but I avoid great power. Being a bridge through which news and sometimes determined spirits travel, I bring enough upset to many worlds. I have sworn to act without favour. Experience has shown me - contact with authority may require choosing sides. I could be hindered in my tasks, asked to prove loyalty or good intent. I have the patience to withstand such testing, but no desire to seek it out. I dare say that in social settings bestowing them with roles... folk often choose worse than alone."

"I can see your reasoning. If you know the history of this world, it makes sense to avoid getting entangled. A great war has just ended here. It has restarted across ages untold. Last time, when my people were being wiped out, it was actually me who restarted it, asking for aid."

"I can imagine how that might feel."

"As for your quest for next of kin... I must caution you. If the person you met was ill-tempered..."

"His next of kin have doubtful temper too?"

"I would describe the person I am going to suggest... as intelligent, impatient, ruthless, skillful, ambitious and unethical. If there is any sense of justice left in him, it is deep asleep. He used to be different once. What I think brought him down were his ambition and impatience. If you must, approach him cautiously. He is not impulsive like the one you met."

"How do you advise that I present myself?"

"If you introduce yourself as a visitor from outside, he might bear no grudge. I don't advise telling that you met me, though he might conclude that anyway. He doesn't hold me in good esteem, as he thinks I spy on him, which in fact I sometimes do. And he's hiding currently, though I know the general direction."

"I promise to approach him carefully. Your cautions I am very grateful for. I will bear them in mind."

She saw Eärendil point the stranger to Mordor. From there on, the dream took the qualities of future again. Multiple scenes flickered through her mind, interrupted. They all started from the same point. A perfect sphere of perfect black dropped from the skies and landed among ash.


	8. Lord of the Earth

First there was a battle, presumably in Mordor.

"Weapons of our time can turn any land into Mordor", her other self thought.

This was the real Mordor, though. A newly built and vast tower dominated landscapes, rivaling the height of Mount Doom. At its tip, bright fire burnt at all times.

She was clad for war, wearing armor, a strange helmet with a visor of crystal, a long knife for ceremonial occasions was the only familiar weapon. She had tools and knowledge from another world. This was the frontline, yet the tower was far in hazy distance.

Galadriel understood that here, weapons existed that would make a dragon weep. And of course, she was not herself, but a dark-haired Noldorin woman. Her name was Silevaearon and she was the captain of her team. They were running out of men to send.

Her warriors were in an incredible hurry. She took readings of angles, ran through calculations, commanded adjustments... accidentally imagined a trail of fire hurtling towards the tower.

That was a mistake. The tower-fire instantly turned towards them. It became blinding, as if approaching. This was death, and they had failed because of her stray thought. For a moment, the visor still protected her eyes, turning black like void... and she saw distance readings. The missile was in flight!

No chance would come to thank who got it fired, but perhaps, she could still arm it... slow down, world, I want to type five numbers before I die... and the world, as it had before, bent its laws a little for elves...

/ Well met, lord of the tower. You have a parcel coming. /

A warrior in plain clothes and no armor stood deep under the foundations of the tower. He bore no weapon, but battle was around him... as he was the tower. Yet that was an illusion. He held in hand something like a palantir, yet not the kind given to men of Numenor. It was something of his own making, something more capable.

In the illusion he felt a hostile thought. Turning to look, he spotted a deadly threat, a tiny speck on the horizon. Immediately it was magnified. For a moment, dark lord and elvish warrior saw eye to eye and mind to mind.

A pulse of destructive light fired from the tower. At the target site, ash turned into molten glass. Heated air formed a towering cloud above the wound in earth's surface. A moment later, he noticed the incoming projectile. It had finished accelerating and was coasting many times faster than sound.

The tower intercepted it, but close. For a moment, Barad-Dur shook and was masked in cloud... but Barad-Dur was built to last.

On his hand holding the palantir, glowed a plain golden ring. He was the Lord of the Earth, doomed to watchfulness around the clock. This world was his, but the cost was high. He was tired and still unsatisfied.


	9. Farewell Earth

In another dream, there was a white city built into a mountainside.

Its walls were high and thick, but had fallen into disrepair. Travelers came to admire them, but their purpose was long gone. Replicas of catapults displayed drawings to explain their operation. The gate was ever open, unguarded, all could pass.

Human men and women bustled along its streets. Roads extended to the horizon from here, and to the seaport, specks of vehicles moving along them. In the town, cable-cars scuttled up and down the slopes.

Trading parties of dwarves from mountains caught attention among ordinary folk. She thought she saw a hobbit. The same hobbit! He who had ability to bear the ring of power, without being its hostage.

There he was, looking from the wall. Galadriel stood beside him, unaware of who she was.

"Is it true that he can finally do it?"

"I would not place bets at this point. There is every reason however, to expect that in principle, it can be done."

An elf who walked past them stopped suddenly, gazing east, towards Mount Doom and the ashen land around it. A land of rich soil, on which nothing had grown... until lately. The mountain seemed to have lost its energy, growing sleepy, giving space to whirlwinds of vapour and storms of rain that restored life. Mordor was now a patchwork of gray and green, as if the power that darkened it was gradually packing to leave.

Now earth seemed to be trembling a bit. She guessed the elf had felt that before them. It was evening, sun was setting west. Yet a reddish glow sprang up in the east, illuminating clouds. Stronger it grew.

Had the mountain awakened again? No, it was merely air, not earth trembling. A flickering light rose and intensified beyond mountains. Next, Galadriel could see a fireball rivaling the sun.

"I think we are witnessing a quite a moment, Frodo."

She realized her viewpoint was of a bearded old man, standing at the side of the hobbit named Frodo, leaning on a wooden staff.

"This will either be an epic failure of insane proportions, and many might lose lives, or a profound change that leaves many scratching their head. Which of the two, I cannot tell for now. In a few minutes, I can."

The light of the fireball slowly rose. It wasn't going straight up any more. It was veering northward while growing smaller. She could discern a trail that was now of very obvious curvature. It would go around Arda and return here eventually from south, and return above new places as the world turned. Smaller and smaller it became in distance. The glow stopped.

"He succeeded, and has joined the company of Eärendil in outer skies. Where that ship is capable of going, I know not. What his goals are, causes me concern. But he has given up Middle Earth. I hope he didn't take any other creatures up there. Without extreme precautions, all would perish in such conditions. That is why Eärendil is no longer counted among us. The old Eärendil whom Elrond once called father, could not live there. Mairon can, but why..."


	10. Seashine

Finally there was a scene of two elvish men playing a board game. They had cups of wine at their table. One of them was winning and the other had no chance. They were friends though, and the match was not emotionally tense. It was sparring, prides were unhurt.

"You've learnt new combinations."

"A few more", the other smiled.

"Still you could already cause quite a stir, if you tried."

"How about you? Why don't you ever join a tournament?"

"It would be cheating. Outsparring a friend is one matter. In a competition, I would diminish the fun. I am grateful to live among your people and wear an appearance of your kind, but I must stay mindful of differences. Some of them may never disappear... though never is a long time. As for tournaments... is not the point of competition, to have chance of winning?"

"True enough. You mentioned that you had been to healers?"

"I was, but no, I wasn't hurt... a friend of mine is a healer, she invited me. There had never been a case like that, I was able to be useful... I quite like being useful, sitting idle is such a nuisance. Secondly, I had the uneasy feeling... that it could have been something from my previous life."

Celebrimbor nodded silently. He knew of that previous life.

"Was it?"

"Fortunately not."

"Could you cure it?"

"Not at once. Nature has a way of making complex patterns. I could however trace them, find the cause and show her how it occurred. They will find a cure for him soon."

"I wasn't aware that medicine was among your interests."

"Truth to be told... it hasn't been previously. When you are not very vulnerable, knowledge of healing tends to wither. But I've discovered it for myself, living among your kind. I hurt myself badly once, causing an explosion. Had I been elvish, I'd have simply died. As things were, my mind kept going and dragged my body along... but the mess was severe. I quickly understood that I had not the knowledge to repair myself without remaining disfigured.

Silevaearon helped me heal, and of course she wondered how I did survive. Eventually she asked, and I told her the entire story. I also offered help, and we have grown to be friends. And I have understood how complicated it can get. There are still many puzzles which elude me, and your people are a curious kind. I am truly grateful to be here. Have I told you how it all started?"

"You have mentioned some things, but I could hear more."

Galadriel understood that she had reached the goal of her journey.

"Well, from my perspective, it was just another windy day in Mordor. The mountain was kind enough to provide energy and cover and erase my work, and I appreciated the privacy. In reality of course, Galadriel knew, Eärendil had noticed, and my presence in Mordor was a public secret of sorts. There never came a visitor, though, until that day.

A perfect sphere of perfect black fell from the sky, leaving a trail of cloud. It didn't crash but decelerated, and gently bumped into ash near the mountain. There it stayed, motionless, like some weird seeing-stone. That was quite enough to focus my attention.

Whom I later noticed walking around Mordor, was a creature unknown to me. It reminded of Ungoliant, yet showed every sign of keen intellect and good temper. Hungry it was not, it had four legs and two arms, and many eyes in a regular pattern, and they glowed with inner light.

I was too cautious to go and meet, leaving a message instead. It was trying to be indirect, but nothing could conceal that it was searching for me. For exactly that reason, I feared to confront it. Still, I desired to know its secrets. So it happened that I left Mordor for a while, hastily entered the Grey Havens and sneaked into your people's libraries. To find out what this was."

Celebrimbor smiled, bemused.

"No, not as you think... you see, I found an elvish hair."

"You made your body back then? Out of a single hair?"

"No understanding was needed. I just followed old instructions faster than nature could. I gave back life to a bit of dying information, made it forget its purpose and grow at dizzying speed. I tweaked the growth to make no errors, though. It was the second most exhausting task I had ever undertaken. At the bottom of a lake I grew until complete. The hardest part was figuring out how to divide my mind. My new body couldn't harbour all of my mind..."

Mairon paused, as if considering.

"...so I created this."

He took the ring off his finger and offered it to Celebrimbor.

"You cast part of your spirit into a material object?"

"It is no mere object, but yes."

"But how?"

"That's a story I would like to tell another time... but in principle, it is a highly complicated machine, capable of performing all things which a focused mind can describe itself to perform. I has unfailing memory and great attention for detail... it can't dream, though."

"A strange shortcoming. You said it could perform everything which a mind can describe itself to perform. Did dreaming run so severely counter to being described?"

"You guess correctly. The part of myself I couldn't harbour in my new body, I turned into such information that can be written down. A written spell writing more of itself... is perhaps, in most perfect control, yet to dream, control must be relinquished. A mind capable of breaking things, breaking itself with a stray thought, cannot afford to enter a dream. It can calculate what it might dream of, however. And my body can still dream. I've come to appreciate the duality."

"Are you not afraid to lose it?"

"Getting lost does it no harm. I wear it out of prudence and maybe superstition... but it actually doesn't need to be worn. I can part from its company and still know where it goes, since I am it, and it is me. Occasionally, it needs to be reforged, and only then must I take my natural form. Now, only if it were destroyed, then indeed consequences would be severe... but I have made it very resilient, to avoid putting myself or others at risk. It is safe to examine, please, have a look. It is heavy, though."

Celebrimbor carefully accepted the ring. To say that it was heavy was an understatement. The tiny object weighed like a sledgehammer. He examined the ring with all his senses, and indeed felt it to contain more.

/ One ring to change its maker, /

/ one ring to change itself, /

/ one ring to alter future, /

/ one ring to never fail, /

/ to forge the way to better, /

/ around any obstacle the world contains. /

"Ah, you found it. It is like... a public introduction to a long concealed spell, that forever alters itself even as we speak. That spell is me, though not all of me. It could have taken any shape, but a ring seemed appropriate, being a circular path that folds back to itself, and something that people hold precious. The amount of energy that went into it... was all I had. In retrospect I understand how wrong it could have gone, but I had been forewarned... you see, I had a dream once, a tragic but likewise funny one, where I... um... I better leave this for another time too."

Celebrimbor handed the ring back.

"You have already told a lot. Thank you. Also, I'm humbled to know of such techniques. And of course, curiosity drives me to ask... if you could some day teach me the principles of this work?"

"No problem, of course I could. In case you prove a quick learner, let me say this first, however... I would not recommend practising this craft without great caution. It is an act of creation that can easily go astray. To create new life, you have to be mature. Likewise, to create a new form of existing, you need to be sensible, cautious and free of enmity. I have seen... possible worlds where I made this choice in anger or despair. These worlds were damaged by this act alone, by making it."

"Don't worry, I will remember this caution very clearly. I only wish to understand the principle, and likely won't make more than toys and trinkets."

They wished good night and Mairon left the workshop, walking towards what he recently called home. Recently had become a month, then a year, then a decade and a century...

...he had not fully lost touch with his old home, yet nothing awaited him there. Here, tasks awaited. More challenging than the tasks, had proven understanding why and when.

The next task was easy. He was going to cook. The when was tomorrow, the why was unclear. He could have built much in that time, but making a pie of roots, fruits and herbs... seemed enough. Wasting hours to make a simple and needless treat was of course strange, but considering it was an excuse to spend time with someone he liked, yes, let there be some inefficiency.

His new body needed sleep, but remembering his talk with Celebrimbor, he decided to do one final thing. Finding again a dream far away, back through time and space, he waved goodbye to Galadriel.

/ I knew it was not to be. /

/ Don't worry, I knew it too, it is better the way it is. /

/ Don't have any regrets, please. /

/ I won't. Besides, we will meet some day. /

/ Will you remember this? /

/ Yes, I will. /


	11. Awakening

"Galadriel?"

"Sorry, what time is it?"

"It is noon, you quite decisively refused to awaken."

"There was a lot discover."

She smiled more often, and was in a lighter mood. Celeborn smiled back and enjoyed the day. While having dinner, he finally figured it appropriate.

"Can I ask you something about your recent dream?"

"Yes, of course... I should have actually already told you. Although you might not believe all at once. Or not believe at all. You see, if you smash destiny into bits, it doesn't break, it reassembles. It never assembles the exact same way however."

"In your sleep, you seemed to whisper some strange enchantment, which was about a ring."

"Oh, I didn't realize I had said it aloud. In my dream, someone created indeed such an object. Into it they poured much of their power, and it did change them. In some possible futures, great violence and destruction resulted, for into it went their anger, desire for victory and superiority. In some futures great change came about... and in some, much what is broken was repaired, and enemies became even allies. But in some, I even became estranged from you and turned into an enemy."

Celeborn had a way of being unshaken by even difficult admissions.

"Perhaps I need no worry, if you can tell which future will prevail?"  
"This time, I think I can. See, there he comes."

"Sir, lady, there is a possible issue."

"Yes?"

"There is a company of orcs behaving oddly on the other side."

"How do they behave, then?"

"They appear to attempt planting a crop of some kind. When it didn't reverse into bashing each other with agricultural tools, it involved loud argument about work at hand, and underpinnings of orc society. We could not avoid overhearing it fully."

"Can you summarize?"

"Apparently, messengers from Mordor came with news. The dark master has simply left. Apparenty, his last orders weren't real orders, more like written tips. Some suggestions pertain to _"ability to live and prosper without reliance on gods or spirits, be they good or evil, magic dirty or clean, or other things out of your reach, and without gambling your life in conquest of other lives either."_

Other suggestions pertained to the _"study of imaginable games and possible moves therein, and their outcomes"_ , which pretty much sounds like a veiled recipe to discover sense. As you might expect, this has provoked much questioning. These suggestions aren't going down well in all orc-packs.

"What will sprout of those then? Could be foul scaleworms that sting or strangle us!"

"Dumb as a troll, are you not? The dark master explained it literally. There was even a drawing."

"But food is something you catch, not something that grows for you."

"Yeah, it's like farting on the memory of Big Melkor! Rip it while it quivers!"

"Big Melkor also mentioned hoes and farming... once, though he probably was high on something."

"Haha, I know that song! All of Angband was hosed, surely he referred to the she-elf, not the agricultural tool!"

"Dark lords always had dark humor, so maggot, shut your trap! And no talk of elves. There be some on the other side, pretty close if you ask me. Wanna swim over to tell them about farming tools?"

"But ain't this stuff spitting on our ancient custom of cannibalism?"

"Who are you to discuss cannibalism, worm-eater? Did catching a rat stoke your ego?"

"Quit the chatter, pitiful gossips! Orders are orders, you either follow them or run the stairs of Moria until you spill your guts and volunteer for cannibalism!"

"Look, if cannibalism and wanton kinslaying will be frowned upon, so should the rest of it, like: 'chieftains ordering common orc about in whimsical manner, with mere purpose of causing injury'. It was a literal example. In perfectly legible dark speech! Let me recall it: durbaluk-"

"-I stand corrected, maggot: you shall hike over mountains in truly purposeful manner, no whim involved, and fetch troll droppings for dental cement! Praise will be great when you return!"

"Yes, in fact I will, no chieftains on the way there!"

"Then hurry, and keep the bucket covered!"

"Chieftain, when the crop is ready, can we at least then slash and burn it?"

"You can, if you tell me who taught that troublemaker dark speech. I don't need them implementing all of that at once, spoils the fun. This is too much and all too suddenly."

After the elvish captain had finished his report, the queen couldn't help but burst in uncontrollable laughter, in which the king joined in a more reserved manner. The captain smiled but could maintain respectful composure. He'd had time to do the math.


End file.
